


Begin Again

by orphan_account



Series: Bagginshield Teen!AU [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Erebor, Goldsickness, Multi, The Arkenstone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo travels to Erebor with Gandalf after it's been reclaimed and meets the dwarf he knew as a wandering blacksmith but is now a King. Sequel to Wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> I’m completely ignoring the ring and pretending the reclaiming of Erebor went on ahead without Bilbo. Though God knows how they survived without their Burglar.

Bilbo had never been this far away from The Shire before. The thought both thrilled and terrified him equally.  His hands shook for most of the journey, and he knew he couldn’t help that, but his heart cried out in happiness with each step he took, and though his mind returned to his warm, cosy Hobbit Hole more oft then not, he was still glad he’d came.

When Gandalf had first asked him to come along, Bilbo had scoffed. But after slamming the door in his face and hiding within his home, he’d begun to think.

He’d always wanted to leave The Shire, to go somewhere far and distant and have one of the adventures he was always so fond of reading about.

So he’d accepted the next day when Gandalf had returned, and they’d set off for Erebor, the newly reclaimed Dwarf Kingdom, with the package Gandalf had surreptitiously hidden in his cloak that he wouldn’t tell Bilbo about.

Bilbo recalled the stories he’d been told of Erebor now, the tales Thorin had recounted about the great mountain, laid siege to by Smaug, stolen from his people. Thorin had always seemed so single-minded about reclaiming it, though Bilbo had thought many times over that the idea seemed foolish. Looking at it in the distance, though, eyes gazing over the Lonely Mountain with its solitary peak, reaching up into the sky, Bilbo had to admit it didn’t seem so foolish now.

Gandalf had told him how Thorin had led a small group, unluckily numbered, across the land and into the Lonely Mountain where they chased Smaug out, who was destroyed by the people of Laketown not soon after. Bilbo had found himself smiling often, thinking of the tale.

But Thorin was a King now, a leader of his people, and he was no more than a gentlehobbit that had one known him when he was no more than a blacksmith. This disheartened him a little but he kept on, thoughts of the wondrous Erebor and the sight of many dwarves fuelling him. Even if he never saw Thorin again, he could pride himself on being the first Hobbit to ever visit his Kingdom.

He smiled at the thought.

Oh, if only his mother could see him now... his father would probably be turning in his grave, but his mother would be proud.

“How long until we reach Erebor?” Bilbo asked Gandalf now, as they sat by the fire eating the last of their food.

“Two days, at the most, one and a half if we make haste.” Bilbo nodded. It would be uncomfortable, but he could do without food that long. Hobbits tended not to do that sort of thing, though, for obvious reasons. They didn’t usually go on adventures, mainly because they were inconvenient, but also because they made you late for supper. And every Hobbit from here to Hardbottle knew that missing supper was a dreadful thing to do.

Sleep that night wasn’t as bad as it was when he had begun, for now he was used to sleeping on the hard floor, but he still had trouble this particular night. The excitement of seeing Erebor and sleeping in a proper bed, he supposed. They should have beds there, when Bilbo had asked Gandalf the wizard had simply laughed very loudly. Now that he thought about it, it did seem a stupid question. It had been over a year that Erebor had been reclaimed; of course they were going to have beds.

But Bilbo was weary and worn from travel, so he didn’t feel too embarrassed for misplacing his brain briefly.

He hadn’t slept at all by the time they needed to get up again, and they set off as the sun rose, spreading golden light through the forest. Driven by thoughts of a hot, decent meal and a cosy bed, Bilbo pressed on, ignoring his aching body. They made such good time that by the end of the day they were just a small trek away from the gates of the mountain, though they were still too far away so they stopped again for the night.

“Would you very much mind getting some wood, my dear Bilbo?” Gandalf asked him as he settled the ponies down, removing their packs. “I think we could both do with a little warming.”

The crack of a stick had been his only warning to another's presence before the axe was pressed against his neck. He squeaked in shock and was spun around to face a small group.

“Who goes there?”

“Just a traveller,” there were three of them: dwarves, that much was certain, so Bilbo didn’t feel too worried... yet, “collecting wood for a fire.” The tallest dwarf narrowed his eyes at him; looking down at his blistered and scratched hands where he held a bundle of sticks.

“Leave him be, Dwalin,” the golden hair boy scolded now with a smile, “he’s obviously what he says he is. Look at him, he’s filthy and tired.” Bilbo frowned, a little offended. He didn’t think he looked _that_ filthy.

“What is your business in Erebor?” The other dwarf, Dwalin, demanded as he put his axe into its place with its partner on his back.

“I’m here with a friend- a wizard; he has a package to deliver to your King.”

“A wizard?” the dark-haired dwarf’s eyes lit up, “Gandalf!”

“You know him?”

“Oh, yes, we do!”

“You’re here with Gandalf?” Dwalin asked, eyes still narrowed.

“Yes, he’s just through that way,” Bilbo gestured towards the place they’d set the ponies down, “I can take you to him...”  they boys eagerly nodded and Dwalin allowed him to pass by. They stepped out into the clearing, where Gandalf hardly seemed surprise at the sudden influx of guests.

“Why, look who it is,” Bilbo quickly moved away, setting the wood he’d collected down. “Fili, Kili and Dwalin, how good it is to see you,”

“Aye, and you, too,”

“Who’s your friend, Gandalf?”

“Ah, Bilbo,” Gandalf gestured at him to come closer now. “May I introduce Fili, Kili and Dwalin. _This_ ,” he said now to the three dwarves, “is Bilbo Baggins, from The Shire,”

“ _The Shire_?”

“I’m sure your King has told you many tales of his time spent there.” Gandalf continued now.

“Oh, he has.” Kili eagerly leapt forward and grasped hold of Bilbo’s hand. “This is what a Hobbit looks like, is it? You seem much different to the way I thought you’d look.” Bilbo wasn’t sure how to reply. “From the stories we’re heard The Shire sounds like such a lovely place,”

“Yes, well, it is,” Bilbo laughed a little nervously, wincing at the pressure applied to his hand.

“Careful, Kili,” his brother scolded, coming closer and pressing a hand to Kili’s shoulder, “You’re crushing poor Mister Boggins hand.”

“Baggins,” Bilbo corrected.

“Yes, right, of course.”

“You must travel with us to the gate this night,” Dwalin declared, turning to Gandalf after along, studious look at Bilbo that made him feel quite uncomfortable.

“It is only a short ride,” Fili added, “and they’ll open the gates for us,”

“They have to,” Kili said now with a grin. “We are the Princes, after all.”

 _Princes_? My.

He hadn’t realised Thorin had married and had children, though of course that made sense. He was a King after all, and a King had to have heirs. Bilbo ignored the small painful sensation in his chest at the thought, however.

“That does sound lovely,” Bilbo said now, ignoring the tight feeling in his throat. “A good meal and a bed do sound like wonderful prospects.”

Kili laughed, smacking Bilbo’s back in a way that made him cough.

“I like your priorities, Mister Boggins. Let’s go,”

 

 


	2. Awe

Erebor was breathtaking. Even in need of repair, it was still more awe inspiring than anything he’d ever seen- well, maybe it was a close tie with Rivendell. But the dwarves and the elves hated each other, so Bilbo wasn’t going to say that out loud.

Fili and Kili boasted proudly about the state of the place, how many rooms had been too small for the Dragon to fit in, so he’d simply let them be, and that the great architectural genius of the Dwarves was what kept the place structural. Bilbo smiled, looking up at the high roof, long thick columns and beautifully carved walls. It really was a thing of beauty, and it represented the Dwarves completely. It was certainly the kind of place Thorin belonged, and deserved to belong to.

“I’ll have to go to the Throne Room to see the King,” Gandalf was saying now as they walked, looking at the awe-inspiring city. “Perhaps you would come with me, Bilbo?” his stomach flipped.

“I think its best I don’t go in with you,” as much as he ached to see Thorin, it wasn’t a good idea. Gandalf inclined his head and made move to leave.

“Would you like to see the rest of the royal halls while Gandalf is busy?” Kili suggested now, and Bilbo nodded eagerly at the idea.

“So why is a Hobbit so far from The Shire?” he asked as they walked.

“Gandalf has known my family for a long time,” Bilbo replied with a small smile. “He knows that we’re fond of adventure, and when he told me of this one I knew I couldn’t decline.” Well, in the end he realised that, anyway. “I’ve always wanted to see the world.” The boys showed him almost everything. The kitchens, the bath chambers, the library (and _what_ a library it was). Bilbo was very tired by the time they’d done, and wanted nothing more than a good night’s rest.

“So did you know Uncle Thorin when he was in The Shire?” Kili asked as they led him back towards the room they had kindly offered for him to stay in for the night.

“ _Uncle_ Thorin?” Bilbo asked now.

“Yes, Uncle Thorin.”

He was confused. “I had thought that you two were his...”

“No, no,” Fili shook his head; moustache braids flicking, “We’re his nephews.”

“ _Oh_ ,” of course. He had said something about sister-sons when they’d known each other.

“Uncle never married.” Fili declared now, and Bilbo felt more than a little pleased at that.

“So did you?” Kili prodded.

“Hmm, did I what?”

“Know him,”

“Oh,” could he say so? “Well, yes,” there was no harm in it, he supposed, “a very long time ago, though, I’m sure he’s very different now.”

“Then you should go and say hello!”

“No,” he insisted as the boys grabbed his arms, all but dragging him in the direction of the throne room. “I don’t think so- he probably does not even remember me. Really,” he managed to pull himself out of the steely grips on his biceps. “I think its best I don’t bother him.”

“But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t mind if you came to visit me in the middle of a boring meeting. Would you, Fili?”

“Of course not,” Fili agreed with his brother now. “I’d delight in it,” Bilbo smiled.

“That’s very sweet boys, but it’s been a very long day and I’m in need of a good rest.”

“Of course, Boggins, we’ll show you to your room.”

“Baggins,” he corrected.

“Yes, of course.”

The boys said their goodbyes once they’d led him to his quarters with promises to return in the morning to take him to the great halls where he’d be able to get some breakfast.

With a heavy heart and rather sore feet he crawled into the bed, looking about the cavernous room with awe, and fell asleep with all the candles still lit.

He dreamt of wide, long halls, vast in size, and dark, deep mines that seemed to stretch into an infinity of darkness. He woke feeling more than a little disturbed. Hobbits enjoyed cosy _small_ spaces, dreaming of mines was the last thing that would make him comfortable.

The boys hadn’t shown up by the time he’d bathed and changed, so he decided he’d find his way to the great hall. Now that he thought about it, it did seem like a silly idea, but if he could go from The Shire to Erebor he could sure as hell find the eating hall.

What was the worst that could happen? They certainly didn’t have Mirkwood Spiders waltzing through the halls of Erebor, or Trolls or Stone Giants or thistled shrubberies that were not a good idea to hide behind.

He walked along the corridors, staring up at the roof, which actually wasn’t visible as it was so tall. He was, foolishly enough, too busy staring up that he hadn’t noticed the figure turning the corner at the same time he did.

They collided almost comically, and Bilbo managed to steady himself by clutching at the wall, thankfully. He didn’t need to embarrass himself anymore.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” The reply was gruff, and Bilbo noticed it was one of the men he’d met yesterday.

“Mister Boggins,”

“Baggins, actually,” he felt a bit like a broken record, but never mind that. “Dwalin, isn’t it? I’m really very sorry...” he trailed off when his eyes fell upon the dwarf beside Dwalin, one just as tall and infinitely as scary.

Because they may not have spiders, or trolls or stone giants, but there was one thing Erebor did have that frightened Bilbo.

He swallowed loudly.

“Thorin,”

 

 

 


	3. The Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moonrose91 is such a sweetie, commenting on all my stuff. So this chapter is for you!

Thorin (well, _King_ Thorin), hadn’t changed much with time. Surely he’d gotten stouter, his shoulders slightly thicker and broader, his body even more laden with hardened muscle, though Bilbo didn’t see how that could be possible. He still had that scowl, as well. The one Bilbo had thoroughly enjoyed teasing. And then Bilbo felt an infinite amount of hurt spill through his system. This was the dwarf who had made promises of a return; one Bilbo had always waited, even up until Gandalf had knocked on his door. This is the dwarf who had kept him waiting for a good thirty years.

“You two know each other?” Dwalin turned to his king now, confused.

“Only very briefly,” Thorin replied, face as stoic as ever. Bilbo thought he heard a little crack, but then realised it was just his heart breaking a little bit more. Nothing new.  “Back when I was in The Shire, working as a smith.”

“You made no mention of it,”

“I did to Fili and Kili, though you’d left at that point.” Bilbo explained, back straightening. “I am sorry, I was just looking for the food hall,” he would not cry. “I got distracted by the roof,” he added with a forced smile.

“Ah, it is very tall now, isn’t it?” Dwalin looked up himself now. “And we were just on our way there; would you like us to show you?” Bilbo wanted to say no. But by God he wanted to say yes, as well. Cognitive dissonance battle inside his head until eventually his weaker half relented.

“Thank you,” he said now. “Usually I wouldn’t mind exploring but I haven’t had anything decent to eat in a very long while.”

“So how did you like your tour?” Dwalin asked as they began to move.

“Oh, it was wonderful. It really is a lovely place,”

“Certainly worth fighting a dragon for,” Dwalin joked now.

“Fili told me it was a fierce battle.”

“Ah, we can’t take much of the credit. The people of Laketown were the ones who had finally slain the beast.”

“But still,” Bilbo counted, “it must take a lot of courage to chase a dragon from a hoard of gold.” Dwalin laughed loudly.

“It was a task, indeed,” he agreed. “One the company will relish in retelling to a fresh pair of ears. Certainly they will delight in meeting the Hobbit who arrived with Gandalf. And one our King knew when he was nothing but a pauper.” Bilbo said nothing. What _could_ he say? _We did a lot more than simply ‘known’ each other_. There was a time where Thorin knew Bilbo’s body better than he did himself, and vice versa. Sadly, no more.

Though Bilbo lamented now that he might be the only one who thought that a sad thing.

Just as the rest of Erebor, the food hall was simply wonderful.

“There is something to be said about the architecture of the dwarves,” he said now, more to himself than the others, though Dwalin still laughed.

People bowed as their King passed, eyes turning curiously onto Bilbo, who was being led to a raucous table by Dwalin. _They’ve never seen a Hobbit before,_ he had to remind himself. _They think you a queer little thing. Just as Thorin once did._

He wrinkled his nose as his traitorous thoughts. Even his subconscious couldn’t keep Thorin out. He just kept... leaking back in.

_He’d certainly think me queer now, after so long, still pining after him._

“Boggins!” Fili and Kili were at the table, calling out for him, until they realised they’d promised to chaperone him. They went wide eyes and grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry, Boggins,” Kili said now through a mouthful of bread, “we forgot.”

“Everyone- this is the Hobbit we were telling you about,” Fili said now, sweeping a hand in Bilbo’s direction. “Mister Bo- _Bagg_ ins.” The other men cheered in greeting, raising their mugs and forks.

“Sit, Mister Baggins,” a warm hand clamped down on his shoulder and he was led to a seat. “I’m Bofur,”

“Lovely to meet you,” he let his hand be lost within the others warm grasp.

“So, what brings you to Erebor, Mister Baggins?” a rather large, orange-haired man asked.

“I came here with Gandalf; he was delivering a package of sorts.”

“Ah, Gandalf,” the man smiled.

“I understand he accompanied you on part of your quest?”

“He did, indeed. Saved us from some nasty Goblins, he did.”

“ _Goblins_?” Bilbo asked, eyes wide, and he nodded solemnly in reply.

“Blasted Goblins,” the dwarf beside him muttered.

Bofur laughed cheerily. “That’s Bombur,” he said now, pointing to the first, very portly man. “My brother. And that,” he moved his finger to the cursing man now, “is Nori.”

“That’s Gloin, at the far end of the table, falling asleep in his sausages- he’s got a young one,” Bofur added in a whisper, “his brother Oin came along with us as well, but he had to get to work early today.”

“Where does he work?”

“He’s a Healer. Does very good work. Now, across from Gloin is Fili and Kili, obviously. And beside them are Balin, Ori and Dori,” Ori waved shyly, smiling, and Dori raised his cup of tea in their direction. Balin simply nodded, looking wise and sage. “My brother Bifur would be here as well, but he’s been feeling a bit under the weather.”

“I’d feel a bit under the weather, too, if there was an axe buried in _my_ skull,” Kili joked, elbowing his brother.

“There’s an _axe in his skull_?” Bilbo almost dropped his cup.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Bofur insisted now, trying to calm Bilbo down, much to the amusement of the others. “It happened years ago. He’s just caught a bit of a cold, is all.” Bilbo looked at Bofur with concern.

An _axe_?

In his _skull_?

And he was _fine_?

“I assure you, Mister Bilbo, he is perfectly fine.” Dwalin said now, obviously reading the concern on his face.

“I can’t imagine anyone being _perfectly fine_ with an axe in my head.” The table burst into peals of laughter, save for Balin, who was simply smiling, and Thorin, who was not smiling at all. Bilbo felt uncomfortable under his dark gaze.

After breakfast he was dragged in three different directions with promises of all sorts from the company, though eventually he managed to pull himself off and inform them that he was rather keen on going to the library today with Bofur. But he assured them he’d find them later to continue the conversation.

He began to leave when a curt voice calling his name stalled him. He turned to see Thorin stalking towards them in his usual manner.

“I’ll just wait over here,” Bofur gave him a smile and moved away to offer some privacy.

“Bilbo,”

Bilbo felt rather small all of a sudden. “Yes?”

“I’d like a word when you’re free. I’ll be in the Throne Room all day- one of the others can show you where it is.”

Bilbo swallowed. “Certainly,” he replied and Thorin gave a curt nod before turning and leaving.

_Oh, dear._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drawing it out because I have literally no idea what they're going to say to each other.


	4. An Impossible Thing

Bilbo was nervous up until the moment he was led to the Throne Room. After that, he was full-out panicking, though he prided himself on concealing that rather well.

They were left in privacy, the servants and dignitaries leaving with politely bowed heads at their King.

At the start, neither of them spoke. They simply stood there (well, Bilbo stood- Thorin was sitting on his throne) staring at each other. Bilbo cleared his throat.

“So,” his voice was very small, but it carried easily through the large room. “You reclaimed Erebor,”

“I did,” Thorin gave a small nod, before a flicker of a smile lit his face. “I always said I would.”

“You did, yes.” Bilbo found himself smiling back. “It just always seemed such an impossible thing to do.”

“I’ve never been held back by impossible things,”

“I suppose not,”

“And you?” Thorin relaxed into the throne now, reaching up and removing the crown from his head. “Have you been on any of the adventures you always talked about having?”

Bilbo smiled a little despondently. “Sadly, no,” he informed Thorin. “Though I like to think I’m making up for it now.” He glanced at the room about them, taking in the massive, stretching walls and intricately carved stone columns. “I would have hated to have missed this.”

“It’s been a long time,” Thorin said now, and Bilbo looked down from the roof.

“It has,” Bilbo agreed.

“You haven’t changed much,”

“Neither have you,” though there was a little more grey in his hair now. “You got bigger. I didn’t think it possible, but you did.”

“I was hardly an adult when you knew me,” Thorin replied, getting to his feet and setting the crown down on the throne now. “I hadn’t filled out.” Bilbo felt the urge to inform him that he had been pretty _filled out_ when he knew him, but he managed to keep his mouth shut as Thorin came closer.

“I suppose I haven’t grown all that much,” he glanced down at himself now, wriggling his toes. “Maybe a little wider, but certainly not any taller.”

Thorin chuckled, eyes moving to where Bilbo’s attention was. “Your feet have certainly grown,” he remarked and Bilbo felt himself blush.

“Well, yes, I suppose,”

Thorin came to a stop in front of him now, and Bilbo craned his neck to still keep eye contact.

“You certainly dwarf me- well, not _dwarf_ , but-” a slow smile stretched across Thorin’s face as Bilbo spluttered, and all of a sudden, he captured Bilbo in an affectionate embrace, arms wrapping tightly around his smaller frame.

Bilbo was swallowed by the warmth. He pressed his face gently into Thorin’s shoulder and inhaled the earthy scent he’d been missing for thirty years.

“It is good to see you again,” Thorin murmured now, vocal vibrations running through his chest.

“And you,”

After some time, they pulled away, both smiling.

“I’m glad you got your home back.” Bilbo told him. Everyone needed a home, and it had torn Thorin apart that his people had lost theirs. “You and your people,”

“We are happy now,” Thorin’s hand remained on Bilbo’s shoulder. “My nephews have showed you around the halls?”

“Oh, yes. They were very vocal about the whole thing, as well. I’ve never had so much information thrust at me in my entire life.” Thorin chuckled.

“They’re good boys. Trouble makers, but good boys,”

“They do seem to be a bit mischievous,” Bilbo agreed. “I do remember you telling me as much when you were in The Shire,”

“Yes, even then we knew they’d be trouble. But we’re lenient; they’re barely of age, so they don’t have to be completely proper all the time.”

There was a loud knock on the Throne Room doors and a tentative voice.

“My King?” Thorin heaved a sigh.

“I have to get back to work,” he reluctantly pulled away from Bilbo and made his way back to the throne, grabbing hold of his crown. “Meet me for dinner?”

Bilbo gave a nod, and Thorin gave him a small smile. “I can do that.”

He was certainly looking forward to it.

 

 


	5. Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin get to talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter and stuff, dudes.

Bilbo had decided to bring it up that night. After all, he deserved some answers, did he not? Even if it resulted in himself being hurt.

So although they had made relative peace with each other, Bilbo was still nervous as Dwalin showed him to Thorin’s quarters. It seemed a bit odd that Thorin did not eat with the others this night but Dwalin explained that Thorin had work he needed to do, and often ate alone in his room to avoid distractions, He then had to assure Bilbo that he was being no bother.

“But if he eats alone to prevent distractions...”

“Peace, Bilbo. He wants no distractions from your conversation with him.” Bilbo felt a little warm at that.

Dwalin left him in front of the door to knock tentatively, his appetite slipping away from him in his anxiousness.

“Come in,” The room was beautiful of course, with the usual high stone walls and the carvings that Bilbo was used to seeing. The room was scarcely furnished. A heavy study table with a comfortable chair, a large, comfortable looking bed that would probably swallow Bilbo completely, a dressing room and another chair placed near a cheery fire, radiating warmth through the quarters.

Thorin gave him a small smile. “Sit,” he gestured to the table before returning his attention to the quill in his hand. “I’ll only be a minute longer.”

Bilbo did as he asked, taking the seat and looking up at the roof he could barely make out in the distance.

“It is awe inspiring, isn’t it?” Thorin looked up as well now. “I used to dream about it.” Bilbo thought he’d probably dream about it, too.

“I’m glad you reclaimed it,” They fell into silence, staring up at the cavernous space above them. “You never came back.” Bilbo said now, not looking down to meet his eyes. “You said you would but you never did.” He paused. “Did you just give your promise to placate me, never actuality intending on seeing through with your words?” he asked, “Because I have to say you needn’t have done that. The truth would have sufficed and I would not have wasted so much of my time waiting for you to return again.” It took Thorin some time to reply. Eventually, he managed something.

“Time passed so quickly and I didn’t think... I thought you might prefer to be left alone.”

Bilbo looked down at him, finding his gaze on the floor. “How could you think that?”

“You were kind to me, Bilbo, but I was nothing more than a smith, and I had nothing to offer you but hardship. At the time I wanted to be a man who could give you something before I...” _And now?_ Bilbo wanted to ask.

“You know I have no need for anything,” he said instead, feeling a sadness well inside of him. “Hobbits aren’t like Dwarves.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Thorin replied with a sad smile, “but that never changed the fact that I _am_ a Dwarf, and we would not burden another in that way.”

“Burden? There is no burden in-”

“In our minds it is seen as one.”

“You kept me waiting for a very long time, Thorin Oakenshield, Stubborn King Under the Mountain.” Bilbo frowned now. “Could you not have even sent me a letter? I mean, really, for all I knew you could have been dead.” Thorin had the grace to look sheepish. “I mean, really, all this charming talk aside you didn’t have to come and sweep me off my feet,  just a notice saying you were alive and hadn’t forgotten about me would have sufficed.”

“I know you don’t understand, and it’s hard to explain. If I... If I went back, I’d want to stay. And I couldn’t stay, because I had nothing to offer you, and then months turned into years and I figured that you would have moved on with your life.”

“Well, of course I moved on with my life. Should I have crawled under the bed and hid these past three decades?”

Thorin smiled. “Of course not. But I had rather imagined that by now you would have met some Hobbit lad or lass and would be well into raising a family.” He gave a roll of his eyes. “Dis said I was being ridiculous, and for many years afterward, so did Fili and Kili. But I refused, stubbornly, as is my wont.’

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed now. “You Dwarves are as stubborn as the rocks you carve into. I suppose we can just agree that you’re at fault for being so stupid and we can move on with the conversation.” Thorin laughed at that, which made Bilbo feel a little better.

“I will allow that, but if you tell anyone else that I agreed with you about my being an idiot there will be consequences.”

“Well, it’s a good thing everyone thinks you’re an idiot anyway, isn’t it.” Bilbo teased as a small knock on the door sounded.

“Yes?” Thorin called.

“Dinner, my Lord,” came the muffled reply before the door opened.

“Ah, food."

Bilbo’s appetite had long since returned.

 

 

 


	6. Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did another thing.

Bilbo couldn’t help but notice that Thorin looked so hallowed, shrunken in. It was in the way he held himself, in his whole demeanour. As tall and proud as he stood, there it was, hiding in the dark recesses of his eyes, replacing the twinkle that used to be there, and it made Bilbo a little sad. 

Something was wrong, though Bilbo wasn’t sure if Thorin was hiding it or if he simply didn’t notice it. Occasionally his eyes would glaze over, like he wasn’t even really there anymore, and his face would change; it would twist into something fearsome. But as soon as it had happened it was over, and his eyes and face would clear and return to their normal state.

Bilbo was sure the others noticed, but they pretended not to. He’d caught Dwalin and Balin throwing glances at each other, looking concerned. Bilbo wanted to ask, he really did, but he didn’t feel like it was his place to. After all, he was just a Hobbit, visiting the Kingdom for an unstated period of time. These things were none of this business, regardless of his previous relationship with the King.

What happened was in the past, and he had to accept that. Sure, they had made their peace, and quite amiably, too, for which Bilbo was thankful. He didn’t like confrontation and he was thankful Thorin remembered that. But all their good natured chatter aside, they were friends now and nothing more.

Thorin had moved on, thinking Bilbo would move on as well. And as upsetting as that was it was simply something Bilbo had to accept.

He watched him now, talking politely to dignitaries across the hall.

“Has he changed much?” he turned to find Fili beside him, eyes cast on his Uncle. Bilbo smiled, considering it.

 “Yes and no,” he replied eventually. “He’s just as proud and... imposing,” his mouth tweaked up into a smile, “you could always tell he was someone important.”

Fili grinned.

“But there is something...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo gave a shrug. “I really don’t. But something seems different. He gets so... strange sometimes, like it’s not even him anymore,” he grinned a bit sheepishly. “But I suppose it’s been thirty years, right? Of course he’s going to seem a bit different.”

“No, no,” Fili was shaking his head now. “I see it, too.”

“You do?”

“He gets kind of... distant.”

“Like he’s being pushed back ad something else is coming forwards.”

Fili nodded eagerly. “Yes! That’s exactly it,” his face twisted into something forlorn. “It’s the stone.”

“The stone?”

“The Arkenstone,” Fili looked at him curiously. “He never made mention of it to you?” Bilbo shook his head, and Fili continued. “It’s a priceless gem: the heart of the mountain. It destroyed Thror, our great-grandfather, Thorin’s grandfather.”

“You mean the Goldsickness?”

“He told you about it, then?”

“A little,” Bilbo remembered the dark look that had crossed over Thorin’s face when he told Bilbo about it all those years ago. “Said that his grandfather had fallen to it, that is consumed every waking breath and thought.”

They both looked at Thorin now, pleasantly talking with another dwarf, Dwalin and Balin at his side, like always.

“I worry for him.” Fili said now, eyes dark and solemn. “I fear the stone has captured him the way it captured Thror, turned him into nothing more than a withered husk of greed and envy and goldlust. I have no desire to see him withered in such a way.”

“It doesn’t call to you?” Bilbo asked curiously, head cocked to the side a little. Fili looked disgusted.

“It is nothing more than a stone to me,” he spat vehemently now, though managed to keep his voice low for the sake of others, “what matters is keeping my family and our people safe.” Bilbo smiled at that. “And I don’t know what I’ll do if he threatens that.”

“The others are aware of your feelings?”

“And they feel much the same,” Fili added, nodding. “We will keep an eye out but we don’t see how we can prevent it if such a thing were to happen.”

“If you care for him the way I know you do then you’ll find a way.” Fili’s face cleared of all anger and worry and melted into a softer expression of content.

“I can see why he likes you.” Bilbo felt himself blush and stutter at Fili’s words. But he needn’t have bothered with a reply, because Fili simply gave him a pat on the back and moved to go stand beside his brother.

Thorin came to him once he was done with his conversation, gently taking hold of his elbow and leading him through the room. “Come with me,” he said, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin of Bilbo’s ear. Thorin led him out of the room and down the halls for some time, twisting and turning until they reached a set of stairs, travelling deep down, guarded by at least six Dwarven guards. They nodded respectfully at Thorin as they passed. And down they went. Down and down and down and down, until Bilbo was sure they’d be suffocated by the pressure. But they never were, and suddenly the stairs in front of them started to look like they were glowing. Eventually they reached the bottom, a large opening in the wall, and Bilbo realised just why the stairs held the glow. There was gold, _so much of it_. It was everywhere.

“Wow,” it was all so... bright, entrancing. It was certainly a feast for the eyes.

“This is our treasury,” Thorin said now, taking Bilbo’s hand and leading him inside. “All the gold and jewels we have is stored here.”

“There is certainly a lot of it.” Bilbo murmured in awe.

“I wanted to show you something.” Thorin pulled him to a stop in front of a display stand, where on top of a soft cushion sat a stone, glowing an ethereal, indescribable shade of blue and casting the light onto every surface it could reach. It was infinitely beautiful, and infinitely frightening.

“It’s the Arkenstone,” Thorin lifted it up gently as he spoke, holding it out for Bilbo to inspect, “Heart of the Mountain and our most precious jewel.”

“My,” Bilbo breathed.

“You like it?”

Bilbo looked up at him, noticing the strange glaze to his eyes as they were downcast on the stone. “You wish for me to be honest?” he asked now. Thorin smiled but did not glance up at him.

“Of course I do. I value your counsel above all others, not only because of our closeness, but because you always speak the truth.”

“It is a very pretty stone, Thorin.” Bilbo said gently now. “But it is only a stone to me. It’s a lovely thing that nature has made, but I find much more beauty in spring sunshine or a good meal with a friend.”

Thorin looked irked, but managed to contain it. “You’re not from around here, so I can forgive your misunderstanding, and I appreciate your honesty, as always, but this is no mere rock. It is a symbol of our people-”

“The worth of your people is measured in their actions and their reputations and not in a rock.”

“Bilbo-”

“No, you wished for me to be honest, and I am. I worry about this. Were you not the one who told me about the Goldsickness and the horrid way it consumes people?” His words were cut short when Thorin released a loud, barking laugh, the glaze from his eyes disappearing at once.

“You fear I have the sickness?”

“Well, yes.”

Thorin laughed again. “Ah, Bilbo,” he set the rock back down in its place before putting his hand on Bilbo’s face. “Let me ease your worries.”

“You wouldn’t know if you were consumed by it. Thror didn’t know-”

“Hush now,” Thorin quietened him, “I can assure you with the most fervour, Bilbo Baggins, that I am fine. I know this simply for the fact that if you were to ask me, I would give you all the gold you desire. That it itself is proof that I am not attached to these things.”

Bilbo was torn, unsure whether he was convinced or not. Thorin noticed.

“You wish for me to prove it? Ask for anything Bilbo, _anything_ ,” he gestured around the room, “and I shall give it to you.”

Bilbo heaved a sigh. “I do not _want_ anything. What use do I have with gold or gems?”

“There are many uses for gold and gems.” Thorin argued gently now.

“Not for a Hobbit, there aren’t. Apart from food and warm clothing there is not much else we would want to spend it on,” he took Thorin in now, shrewdly, analysing him. “But if you’re sure you’re alright... I won’t press the matter,” he paused before adding, “not at this very moment, anyway.”

Thorin smiled softly. “I am glad for your worry.”

“Of course I worry.” Bilbo scoffed. “We’ve known each other for a long time.”

“We have, indeed,” he agreed.

“Perhaps not very long by Dwarven standards,” Bilbo continued on, “but thirty years is a good long time for a Hobbit.”

“I consider you one of my closest friends.” Thorin assured with a smile, a comforting hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “I have dearly missed each second I have spent away from you.”

“And I you.” Bilbo replied, looking up at him. They were very close now, so close their bodies were almost touching. They automatically leaned closer to one another; old habits die hard after all, and suddenly their lips were touching.

It was a gentle kiss, a hesitant one on both their parts, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

Bilbo had played their kisses over and over in his mind for many years, wondering if they were really as good as he remembered or if he was just imagining it, and now he had an answer. _Yes_.

His hands reached up, wrapping around Thorin’s neck, and he pulled himself up, trying to get even closer, though that was hardly possible.

Thorin pulled away all too quickly, leaving Bilbo all but whining at the sudden loss.

“The impropriety,” he clicked his tongue now, though his eyes were light and his once-heavy shoulders now seemed weightless. “A King should not be caught in such a compromising position.” Bilbo could think of a lot of other compromising positions he’d like to get Thorin in, but didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he let Thorin take his arm again and lead him out of the room. “Though I’m rather fond of impropriety where you’re concerned,” Thorin added with a grin.

Bilbo sneaked a quick kiss before they started up the stairs again.

 

 

 


	7. How Embarrassing

The next few weeks were a wonder that was almost indescribable.

Bilbo enjoyed not only the company of his old friend Thorin (well, he’d been a little more than a _friend_ , obviously, and he was a little more than a _friend_ now), but also of his nephews and the rest of the company, who had taken a liking to him, for which Bilbo was thankful for.

He’d been unbelievably busy, being pulled to the libraries by Ori, the mines by Balin and Gloin, around the markets by Bofur, to the fighting grounds by Dwalin, to the tea shops with Dori (and a begrudging Nori- who hated tea with a passion), to the infirmary with Oin, and to the kitchens with Bombur, who stuffed him full of so much food he was sure he was about to burst like some sort of Dwarven piñata.

But he enjoyed almost every second of it. _Almost_ every second, because the mines had made his stomach clench and his head spin, and the fighting grounds had been loud and violent.

But even then, he enjoyed the company of his newfound friends.

And then, in his spare time, he found himself usually by Thorin’s side, walking about the Great Halls, or pinned to a wall in Thorin’s personal quarters, his mouth being ravaged.

Thorin hadn’t tried anything else, and though Bilbo was a little lament at that, he knew that it wasn’t a good idea to rush things. After all, Thorin was of incredibly high status now (how much higher could you get than King?), and Bilbo was nothing more than... well, himself.

It was not a good idea to cause such a fuss among a Kingdom of Dwarves when Bilbo had no idea whatsoever how long he’d be staying, let alone where his relationship with the King Under the Mountain was going.

This was all lovely, but they couldn’t go very far with it, could they? Thorin should marry and have children.

Even if he did already have heirs, it would be expected of him to marry to some lovely Dwarven lass or lad that would create an alliance between his Kingdom and another clan.

That was how these things went, at least, that was the way Bilbo imagined them to go.

But that wouldn’t stop him from enjoying what he had for now.

“Oh, I’d hate to distract you from your Kingly duties.” Bilbo sniggered now as Thorin pulled him into his lap that evening.

“ _Please_ , by all means, distract me from my Kingly duties.” Thorin told him, looking tired.  Bilbo pressed a hand to his face, fingers tracing over the dark lines underneath his eyes.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not really, no. But I don’t think I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep since.... well, since I left Bag End.”

Bilbo flushed. “Come now, you tease me, I’m sure. The beds at Erebor are just as comfortable, if not more so than mine. And they’re Dwarven size, so you have no trouble fitting into them.” Bilbo himself was often swallowed by the great expanse of mattress and linen, and he remembered a great many times when Thorin would huff about the ridiculous size of Hobbit beds.

“They do,” Thorin agreed. “But they don’t have what your bed had.”

“Which was?”

Thorin’s look was intense and just a little bit disconcerting. “You.”

Bilbo laughed at him, the butterflies in his stomach from then look all but forgotten. “You’re acting terribly amorous; it’s fairly silly, if I’m being honest.”

“ _Silly_?” Thorin repeated with a frown. Clearly Bilbo’s reaction wasn’t what he was expecting.

“You never were the romantic type.”

Thorin sighed now, but a small smile lit his face. “Yes,” he agreed, “I never could quite get the hang of it.”

“You needn’t try to be romantic for me, you know.” Bilbo continued. “I’m more than aware that Hobbit standards of romance are quite different to Dwarven ones.”

“You’re certainly right there,” agreed Thorin. “You know nothing of courting rights in our culture.”

“That’s really only because you refused to tell me such things when we were together.”

“Those things are secret. We keep them very close to our chests. I couldn’t very well indulge in courting in such an un-Khuzd place as _Hobbiton_ , could I?”

 “I suppose not,” Bilbo agreed with a smile, flattening out the collar of Thorin’s shirt. “So what did you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, you were buttering me up for _something_ with that behaviour. _”_

Thorin had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Well, I was going to ask...”

“Yes?”

Thorin paused, and when he did speak it was with a cautious, shrewd look at Bilbo, as if he were carefully gauging his reaction to the words. “I was going to ask if you’d consider staying for a while longer, here in Erebor.”

“Postpone my leaving, you mean?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, I wasn’t even sure _when_ I was going anyway,” he said now.

Thorin’s replying smile made Bilbo’s heart do silly things in his chest, and he watched as Thorin’s pupils slowly became blown with desire. He should have seen what was coming next.

Thorin kissed him roughly,fighting him for dominance (not that Bilbo ever stood a chance of winning in the first place). Bilbo relented, letting him take what he sought and delighted in the resulting groan that came from Thorin’s lips when he swept his tongue inside.

His hands tangled themselves in Thorin’s hair, pulling it free of its binding and splaying his fingers through the tresses, urging him closer. Their bodies crushed together, no more space between them, and Bilbo tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss, only vaguely noticing Thorin’s sliding his braces off of his shoulders and slipping his hand up underneath Bilbo’s shirt.

He jolted a little at the warm, calloused fingertips that roughly dragged themselves across his skin, memories of their time thirty years ago jumping to his mind. Feeling desperation race through his body, he grabbed at Thorin’s coat, pushing it off. There were far too many clothes between them, and they needed to get _closer_.

Thorin chuckled something into his lips in Khuzdul, beard scraping against his jaw. Bilbo pulled away, trailing kisses down his neck, licking at the tendons there.

“This is hardly a comfortable place for this kind of activity,” Thorin murmured, hands running up Bilbo’s sides. He added something about his bed, but Bilbo wasn’t listening.

He managed to mumble some sort of approval, and Thorin moved to lift him up, but the door suddenly swung open with little warning and Bilbo squeaked, falling off the chair and hitting the ground with a loud _thump_ , scrambling to pull his shirt back in place.

“Uncle, we...” Fili’s eyes widened at the sight and he stopped so suddenly Kili ran straight into him.

“What the hell, Fili?” Kili’s eyes followed his brother’s gaze, and he pulled much the same expression.

“Out,” Thorin pointed straight to the door. The two boys couldn’t have run out faster if Smaug himself had been in the room, and Bilbo could hear them burst into laughter the second they closed the door behind them.

_How embarrassing._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cockblocked by the nephews.


	8. Something that Needs to be Done

Bilbo had kept himself busy in the following days, after receiving news that much of his beloved friends would be in meetings with the Elven King of Mirkwood for the next week, who had arrived in the dead of night with next to no fanfare.

It had been so sudden that Bilbo had found himself without company that he was unsure of what to do with himself. So he went to the library on his own, and walked about the markets, chatting to the vendors about their produce and listening to the local gossip.

Somehow, word had gotten out that Bilbo was very close to the King, an so he was often looked at with some caution, but once he got to know the people, they seemed rather comfortable in talking with him.

Some had gotten so comfortable, in fact, that they had taken to voicing their opinions about their leader to him. Bilbo often heard the same thing, repeated over by different people he spoke to. That Thorin seemed a kind and wonderful ruler, though they never saw much of him. He stayed in his great halls, only wandering out to see the light every now and again, and even then he kept himself incognito, so no one would notice him.

Many were quite concerned for his wellbeing, and Bilbo assured them with a smile that their King was fine, and he was simply buried under a mountain of work (no pun intended) trying to get the Kingdom back to the peak condition (alright- maybe _that_ pun was intended) it had been known for in its past life.

But he did feel a startling amount of concern. If Thorin’s people were noticing something was wrong with him, then how could Thorin not notice it himself? All his assurances aside, it was certainly clear that _something_ was wrong, but Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to broach the subject again.

It was late when he returned to the Royal Halls and found Fili and Kili pacing in front of his room, looking anxious.

“Bilbo,” Fili breathed in relief when he saw him.

“What is it?” Had something happened?

“Do you mind if we talk to you for a moment?” Kili wondered, looking shyly at his feet.

“Of course,” he pushed open the door to his quarters and waved at them to follow him inside. “What’s wrong?” he wondered now.

Fili began fuming, needing no more prodding from Bilbo. “We are on the brink of war because Thorin is too stubborn to give Thranduil his share of what he feels is owed to him.”

“He helped you in the Battle of the Five Armies, didn’t he?” Bilbo was under the impress than Thranduil was an ally, not an enemy. Perhaps he’d been wrong...

“Yes,” Fili explained now, “but only after Balin went behind Thorin’s back and all but begged him for his aid.”

“Thorin didn’t react too well to that.” Kili added with a dramatic eye roll. "Only reason he didn't exile Balin was because he's one of his oldest and closest advisors, and Balin insisted it was for the good of Erebor."

“Do you think he won’t share because he simply hates the Elves, or do you think it’s something a little more... sinister?”

“I’d like to believe it is simply the loathing of their kind that fuels him,” Fili said now, expression filling with doubt, “but I see it in his eyes... when he mentions the gold, our jewels. It’s like nothing else matters, not even the lives of his people.”

“The Goldsickness will curse our line once more,” Kili finished bitterly.

Bilbo wasn’t sure why they were telling _him_ this. He couldn’t do much about it. “Surely he’ll listen to you two, to the rest of the Company-”

“We have tried.” Fili answered. “We really have. But he simply waves our concern off. Now we will be in yet another battle, foolishly fighting at the whim of a sick ruler.”

“Then refuse to fight.” Bilbo told them. “Corner him and tell him, all of you, that you will offer no help unless he speaks to Thranduil and sorts some sort of truce out.”

“That could be considered traitorous.” Kili said in reply, looking at Fili who was shaking his head.

“Mahal only knows what he’d do if we suggested such a thing,” the elder groaned now.

“You fear banishment for speaking your mind?” Bilbo asked in disbelief. Surely a _sister-son_ would have no such thing to fear...

“I fear banishment for many things.” Fili informed him, gaze dark. “Even a stray look at Thranduil could be considered treachery in Thorin’s eyes.”

“He’s accused Ori of such, simply for stating how elegant the Elves are.”

“Though that was stamped out quite immediately by Dwalin.” Kili added. “But that’s not our point.”

“I can see your point very clearly.” Bilbo said now. “You fear for your lives, even though you shouldn’t have to.”

“He’s so... unnatural at times. So unlike himself. He’s our Uncle once second, the one we’ve grown up with, the one we love, and then the next moment he’s a complete stranger.”

Bilbo nodded in agreement, having felt much the same at certain moments he’d been with Thorin.

“We have to do something before the stone corrupts him even more.” Fili said now, running a hand over his chin.

“We do,” agreed Kili, looking at the wall in contemplation.

“You do understand his counts as conspiring against him, don’t you?”

“It’s a risk we have to take. I will not lose anyone else to greed.”

They both looked at Bilbo. “I will speak no word of this to anyone.” He promised. “Do what you feel is necessary, and I hope you achieve your goal.” Because even though he was aiding and abetting, and although he’d only been here a short amount of time, Bilbo could see quite plainly that the Arkenstone was poison that needed to be drawn from a wound. It would certainly hurt for Thorin, and perhaps for the others, but it was necessary.

This was something that needed to be done.

 

* * *

 

Thorin seemed stressed when he found him in his quarters now; pacing much the way Fili had been pacing in his room hours before.

“I suppose the meetings didn’t go that well, then?” Thorin glanced up at him as he spoke.

“No, not really. But that is to be expected. We’ve never been on the best of terms with the Elves.”

“What does Thranduil want?” Bilbo asked now. “Surely he can’t be asking for something so unreasonable? I was told Elves can be very reasonable when they want to be.”

“When they _want to be_ ,” Thorin spat back now, irritated. “But certainly not where Dwarves are concerned: our people loathe each other. We were _made_ to loathe each other.” Bilbo doubted that, but he wasn’t going to disagree with Thorin out loud on such a thing.

“So he is asking for something you will not give?” he asked now.

“He is asking for too much.” Thorin replied, running a hand down his face.

“But there is plenty here.” Bilbo countered now. “Plenty to be shared around...”

“You side with the Elf?” Thorin’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Of course not,” Bilbo said now, waving a hand at him. “I’m only curious as to the amount he is asking for- if it’s unreasonable it must be vast indeed.”

Thorin scoffed. “I do not wish to talk of such things.” He rolled his shoulders. “These things will be turned over in my mind a great many times before I speak to him again. I do not want to think about it anymore tonight, however.”

Bilbo smiled. “Then let me take your mind off of them, Mighty Thorin, King Under the Mountain.”

Thorin chuckled, relaxing now.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he murmured in reply.

It was certainly just as Bilbo remembered it, if not better, with the same amount of giggling on his side, along with the teasing touches from Thorin’s.

Their clothes were removed quickly and eagerly and they fell onto his bed, legs tangling together, kissing and moaning and writhing.

Soon enough Bilbo found himself quite incapable of speech, but Thorin seemed to have no trouble with it.

“The second I saw you I knew I loved you,” he murmured now into Bilbo’s lips, words thickened with desire. “It was like each and every fibre in my being as pulling towards you. For the first time in my life I’d lost control and I didn’t actually mind.” The words poured freely from Thorin’s mouth like melting metal in a forge, filled with heat, settling hot and heavy in Bilbo’s belly. It was all he could do to moan helplessly and hold onto Thorin’s shoulders.

They collapsed back onto the mattress when it was over, exhausted and panting. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep, and Bilbo thought briefly that maybe he was getting too old for this. When they were younger he certainly wasn’t done after one round, but right now he was completely wiped out.

Thankfully, Thorin had much the same idea, and pulled the covers over them, curling his body around Bilbo’s.

They snuggled together and Bilbo fell asleep surrounded by warmth.

 

 

 


	9. Day Out

Bilbo felt Thorin slip away from his place beside him early that morning.

“More meetings?” he murmured, keeping his eyes closed, and snuggled further into the covers.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Thorin grumbled in reply, and Bilbo listened to him get dressed before he felt the mattress cave in a little from added pressure. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Thorin murmured into his ear before kissing his cheek. Bilbo smiled and went back to asleep.

He took his time getting up, eventually slipping from the bed and putting last night’s clothes back on before going back to his own room to get ready for the day.

He was leaving his room when he bumped into a small, withdrawn figure.

“Oh, hello, Ori,” he greeted him with a smile. “What can I do you for?”

“I was just wondering if you’d accompany me to the markets?” Ori asked now, glancing shyly at the floor. “There’s a bookstall I’ve been dying to see, but I haven’t had a chance yet.”

“That sounds lovely.” Ori blinked at him, relieved. “In fact,” Bilbo continued now, “I was actually just going to see one of the vendors now.”

“Has Thorin been acting... odd around you lately?” Ori asked as they walked, looking curious.

“Odd?” Bilbo repeated.

“Well, it’s just... he seemed rather happy this morning.”

Bilbo found himself frowning. “Well, what’s wrong with that?” Usually people delighted in the joy of their King. At least, that was what he thought anyway.

“When he passed by,” Ori informed him, “he even smiled at me.”

“Thorin doesn’t smile at you?” Bilbo asked, bewildered.

“He hardly smiles at all.” Ori informed him.

Well, Bilbo knew he was stoic, but he’d seen Thorin smile _plenty_ of times. Bilbo said as much to Ori, who grinned a little slyly.

“It’s okay for _you_ , I suppose,” he said now, “But when he starts smiling at Thranduil’s men, I think there’s a problem.” Bilbo snorted loudly.

“He didn’t.”

“He might have, I wouldn’t know, but if I was told that I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I don’t think any amount of good days would make him smile at the elves.”

Ori laughed. “Perhaps not,” he agreed. “But it is still strange. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he said now. “We’re all very pleased that he’s smiling. But it’s not something we’re used to.” Bilbo thought that was a little bit sad, but was glad nonetheless that the King Under the Mountain was a bit happier now. Perhaps that would be enough to keep the sickness at bay. After all, from what Thorin had told him, his grandfather Thror had not been a happy man, so perhaps that sadness had been what had made him susceptible to the Arkenstone’s curse.

The markets were just as lovely today as they were every day, and Bilbo marvelled in the size of them as he walked with Ori. The Shire had its own markets, but none as big as this one. Bilbo had never seen so many people in one place. Erebor was certainly a large kingdom.

Bilbo was thankful for Ori, mainly because most of the vendors only spoke Khuzdul, and his friend was able to translate, and though he got curious looks every now and again (after all, a Hobbit in Erebor was unheard of) everyone was kind to him.

The bookstall was fantastic, as Ori had been hoping. It held almost hundreds of books in many languages, and they spent a good many hours just looking at them all.

In the end, he’d managed to find one out of the many he wanted, purely because he couldn’t afford much, but the vendor had insisted in poorly spoken Westron that he could have it for free.

“They like you,” Ori explained now as they made their way back to the halls, Bilbo looking down at the book in his hands. “They don’t see many of your kind, mainly Men, and sometimes Elves, and if the King likes you, then they know you must be good.”

Bilbo simply smiled, realising that strangely enough he was feeling more at home here with these people than he ever had in The Shire. He gained no derisive looks, no scoffs, no strange remarks about his Took heritage here. People accepted him, even if he wasn’t the same species.

He wasn’t quite sure how to react to that.

 

* * *

 

“You should talk to your people more.” Bilbo said casually, finishing an intricate braid in Thorin’s beard that night as they sat by the fire.

“I talk to my people plenty.”

“I hear them talking when I’m down at the markets, you know.” Bilbo replied now. “And they believe their King to be a wonderful stranger. Wonderful,” he repeated, “‘but a _stranger_ nonetheless. In fact some believe you to be ill.”

“Ill?” Thorin scoffed dubiously.

“They do believe it indeed.” Bilbo informed him.

“I am a perfect picture of health.”

“But they do not know that because they do not see you.” Thorin looked like he was preparing to argue again but Bilbo continued speaking before he could get any words out. “I am sure Balin has made mention more than a few times that it is important to keep your public image in high esteem, and Balin is one of your most trusted advisors. Why don’t you come down with me to the markets one day?” he suggested now with a smile. “Just to see the people and their produce: it would do wonders for your image- not that it’s in need of repair,” he was quick to add when Thorin frowned at him.

Thorin paused for some time, considering his words. “You wish for me to come to the markets with you?” he asked eventually.

“Yes, I do.” Bilbo replied.

“Well, I suppose it does not seem such a harrowing idea. If the people are as worried as you make them out to be,” he continued, “then we must ease their minds.”

“Not to mention you barely leave the Royal Halls, some fresh air will do you good.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, but made no argument.

“I will arrange for tomorrow off.” He said instead.

“Is that not a little short notice?” Bilbo wondered now.

“Fili and Kili can see to my meetings,” Thorin waved it off, “they’ll need the practice, anyway, being heirs to the throne.”

“Well, I suppose if they have any trouble Balin and Dwalin will be there to advise them, as they do you.” Bilbo said with a smile, and Thorin nodded.

“They will indeed,” he agreed.

“And you’re sure it’s alright?” Bilbo asked. “I’m led to believe that things with the Elvenking are rather... tense at the moment.”

“The meetings are not going anywhere anyway.” Thorin bitterly replied, reminding him much of Kili. “I think a day off will do us all some good. Perhaps even Thranduil might consider being less unreasonable after some time in peace.”

Bilbo just hummed, running his fingers through Thorin’s beard. “There,” he said eventually, pulling away. “Perfect.”

Thorin ran a hand over his chin, inspecting the braids, murmuring his appreciation.

“So, tomorrow?” Bilbo asked with a smile.

“Tomorrow,” Thorin agreed.

 

 

 


	10. A Break

Thorin had a bit of trouble grasping the whole ‘sleeping in’ sort of thing. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, but for him it seemed it didn’t really involve sleeping in, just lying there and looking at the roof.

“This is rather relaxing,” he said, stretching out.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping. That’s why they call it _sleeping in_.”

“I like this much better,” he wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s waist and pulled him closer.

“I suppose it’s alright,” Bilbo relented, pressing his nose against Thorin’s warm shoulder. “Sort of reminds me when you were in The Shire.”

“It does.” Thorin murmured his agreement.

“But we’d better get up soon,” Bilbo continued now. “Markets are always the best in the morning.”

Thorin released him with a protesting groan, but allowed him to slip from the bed nonetheless before proceeding to get ready himself.

“I feel so unguarded,” he muttered as they walked.

“Oh, you can handle yourself.” Bilbo laughed now. “Do you think we’ll be mobbed or something?”

“No,” Thorin sighed, shaking his head. “Just not a feeling I’m used to. Since we reclaimed Erebor I don’t think I’ve gone anywhere alone.”

“Well, you’re not alone,” Bilbo told him. “I’m here. I’ll be your bodyguard.”

Thorin laughed loudly at him, startling some of the people they passed by.

“I’m not that bad.” Bilbo said dryly, though he was smiling so the words had no heat to them. “In fact, I can handle myself quite well.”

Thorin smiled. “I’m sure you can.”

The vendors were certainly surprised to see their King, but mostly they were pleased. Thorin listened patiently to his people, to their problems and their compliments.

Bilbo stayed close by, watching on with a smile. It was nice to see him interacting with people, especially his own people. When Thorin had stayed with Bilbo, it had taken a while for the people of The Shire to warm to Thorin, but once they had he’d become quite popular. That hadn’t stopped the sideways glances and the whispered gossip, though. Dwarves seemed to be too busy for gossip. Either that or they just didn’t care for it. It was a nice change for Bilbo, who was often the centre of scandal and scorn.

He could imagine the look on their faces if they saw him now. My, the Bracegirdle’s would have a coronary! He could just see it now. The thought made him laugh.

They walked for some time, looking at the stalls, talking to the vendors. Thorin was really quite good, a leader by nature. After all, he had been groomed for this role all of his life, even after Smaug had taken Erebor he was conditioned to rise up and lead his people. Bilbo wondered, a little morosely, what it was like to be trained for something like an obedient dog. Thorin probably never got the chance of a proper childhood, running around and acting carefree, breaking things. Bilbo considered him now. It was probably the reason he was all stony faced most of the time. He’d always been King Under the Mountain, even when the Mountain had been lost. He would always be King Thorin. He was never simply _Thorin_. He never really got the chance to be himself; even now he never really got much chance.

It was well past midday when they finally decided to return to the halls, in desperate need of sustenance.

“This was good.” Thorin admitted as they sat in the eating hall. “I’ll admit you were right. I needed a day off.”

Bilbo grinned. “You certainly did.” He agreed.

They finished their meals in comfortable silence, before walking through the halls once more, simply talking. It was nice, and it reminded Bilbo much of the time they’d spent together back in The Shire: a time where they would walk and walk and just enjoy each other’s company. A time Bilbo had long since missed and longed for.

Bilbo smiled now. This was nice.

It was, of course, cut short when Dwalin found them in one of the gardens, apologising and informing them that Thorin’s presence was urgently needed. Bilbo had smiled and waved it off, telling Thorin to get hopping. After all, being King wasn’t something a person could just switch off, was it?

He spent a little more time in the garden after he was left alone, wondering if he should offer his help in revering the other gardens that had been destroyed. But why would he suggest such a thing? He was going to go back to The Shire sometime, and suggesting such a thing would take many months, even years.  And he _was_ going back to Hobbiton sometime... wasn’t he?

He frowned as he started to make his way back to his quarters. Bag End was his home. But he felt at home here, too. So much so that he didn’t really want to leave. He’d been here too long already- no doubt the Sackville-Baggins had taken over his home. That made his blood boil, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He was so lost in thought that he almost ran straight into Kili, who was trying to get his attention.

“Oh! Kili.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was miles away.” Kili grinned.

“It’s alright, Bilbo.” He informed him, glancing over his shoulder at Fili, who was catching up to them now.

“What did you two need?” Bilbo asked as Fili came to a stop by his brother.

“We have a... favour to ask.” Kili said now.

“A favour?” Bilbo repeated.

“Could you make sure Thorin doesn’t leave his quarters tonight?”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What are you two up to?”

“We’re taking action before he makes things any worse with Thranduil.”

“I thought things were going alright...” Bilbo asked now, confused.

“Thorin refuses to negotiate with Thranduil. At all. Soon we will be preparing to go to war with the Elves. A war we are neither equipped nor prepared for.” Bilbo’s heart sunk.

“Can you do this for us?” Fili asked now, looking at him earnestly.

Bilbo heaved a sigh. “Yes.” He answered, resigned. “I can make sure of that.”

Fili smiled, looking relieved. “Good.” He put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Thank you, Bilbo.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” And then they were turning on their heels, leaving him along in the corridor.

“Oh dear,” he muttered to himself, watching their retreating figures. He didn’t think this was going to end well.

 

 

 


	11. Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longish chapter- because shit goes down.

Bilbo had known the boys were planning something stupid, but this was a whole new level. It had been quite late, and he’d been almost asleep, Thorin snoring beside him, when the heavy knock landed on the door and Dwalin and Balin entered. Both, of course, seemed very reluctant to inform their King of what had happened.

Thorin’s face had clouded over the second the Arkenstone was mentioned, his eyes becoming dulled and glazed. Rage twisted in his features when Dwalin explained what his nephews had done.

“Keep them in the Throne Room. I will be out momentarily.” Dwalin and Balin nodded and quickly left the room. And Bilbo watched as Thorin stepped out of bed and stalked across the room, grabbing hold of his tunic.

“Thorin...” Bilbo trailed off now, waiting, but he gave no reply. “Thorin?” Thorin simply shoved on his coat roughly and stalked from the room, face twisted into red hot rage. _Oh no_.

Bilbo scrambled from the bed himself, pulling on his robe, and hurried after him, trying to keep up with his fast pace.

“Please, don’t do anything rash-”

“Rash?” Thorin spun, stopping so suddenly he almost knocked Bilbo to the ground. “They have betrayed me and the people of Erebor with these actions!”

“Please,” Bilbo begged. “At least listen to them first. They are your sister-sons, your _heirs_. _Please_.” Thorin snarled and pushed away from him, beginning to move for the Throne Room again.

Bilbo was stationary for a moment, just staring at him in shock, before he forced himself to move, running to catch up with him.

When he finally reached the Throne Room, he could hear Thorin yelling.

“I would exile you for these actions!”

“Uncle, no. Please!” Fili begged as Bilbo rushed into the room.

“Just listen to us Uncle,” Kili added desperately, “we did it for you.”

“Your actions make us worry for you,” the elder continued now. “We fear you have fallen to the Goldsickness.”  Bilbo moved to Thorin’s side, and he would have offered words to cam him, but Thorin spoke now, cutting him off before he got the chance.

“I am suffering no sickness.” Thorin snarled. “The only people suffering anything are you and your brother and your vile accusations.”

“Uncle, please,” Kili beseeched.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said now, stepping forward. “Just listen to them both, hear them out,”

Thorin didn’t appear to be any more convinced by his words. “I will listen to no such words from _traitors_.”

Bilbo hadn’t expecting his hand to rise of its own volition and strike him across the face: the loud _slap_ snapping and echoing across the room. Thorin certainly hadn’t been expecting it either. In the aftermath he simply stood and stared, dumfounded, looking down at Bilbo as red began to blossom across his cheek.

“Leave us,” Thorin demanded to the stunned group of people in the room. “Now,”

They obeyed, quickly leaving; probably ready to hear raised voices and perhaps a decapitation on Bilbo’s part. Pity, because he was rather fond of is head being attached to his body.

“Now you listen here,” Bilbo said strongly now, pointing a finger at the King. If he was going to be beheaded, he might as well add a few strong words. “You did not reclaim this place simply for a _stone_. You claimed it so your people would have a home, so _you_ would have a home. So you could belong somewhere, in a place you knew your people were destined to live their lives. This is a place of safe haven for your kind, a _home_. A stone does not make a home, and I will be damned if you throw away all you’ve worked for simply because it’s a very pretty stone. That’s all it is: a rock. It may have shine but it has no worth. People have worth: food and comfort and family. Not _objects_.”

“I am well aware of that. I’m not so easily swayed by rocks, but this is not merely a stone, this is-”

“A _stone_ , and nothing more than that. You listen to what your family and friends have to say about that and you’ll see that no one cares about it. They worry about _you_. A person has far greater worth than a rock and you are about to exile two of them. Your own flesh and blood: your _heirs_. Think about this, Thorin.”

“There is nothing _to_ think about,” Thorin told him, voice flat.

“You’re going to destroy everything you worked for simply because your sister-sons did something out of concern for you.”

“They were going to _destroy the Arkenstone_.”

“Yes, and I certainly think they should have!” If he were any more shrill he could have broken a wine glass. He held a hand up when Thorin went to splutter a string of profanities. “If you weren’t completely blind you would have had the sense to chuck it in a box and bury it deep within the mountain.”

“It is the gem of the mountain-”

“Then it should be returned to the mountain. Respectfully.”

“You are a simple Hobbit from The Shire; you know nothing of these matters. You are well out of your depth, Bilbo Baggins-”

He pressed the hurt those words unleashed to the back of his mind and cut Thorin off. “And who was it that told me the horror stories of his grandfather, Thror, and his obsession with the stone, hmm? You remember telling me how sick it made you and how you would never be such a heartless ruler, that you would never fall under its spell?” _That_ shut him up. “I may not be from Erebor but I’ll have you now I know enough about people to know that a man threatening to exile his own family without batting an eyelash is not a man thinking straight.”

“My mind has never been clearer.”

“Hasn’t it? Are you sure about that? Because I certainly don’t believe that- not one jot. And neither do the others. They’ve tried to tell you more than once, but you don’t listen, you brush it off like it’s nothing, like they’re being foolish, but their fears are very real, and very reasonable, and you’re the one being illogical by ignoring them. Do you not care about _anyone_? Or their feelings on things, for that matter?”

“I listen to all opinions from those that matter.”

“And I don’t matter then? Because you aren’t listening to me, are you? You’re letting me rant on, but you’re not listening.”

“You matter very much, Bilbo Baggins, and it’s one of the reasons I haven’t kicked you out on your hide for assaulting me in front of my advisors.”

Bilbo let out an enraged noise. “I slapped you because I hoped it might knock some sense into your thick head!”

“I’d be very careful with your next words.” Thorin warned him darkly.

“Oh, so you’re threatening me now? I didn’t realise I had to censor myself to please you. You do hear yourself, don’t you, and the ridiculous vitriolic things that are spewing from your mouth?” he shook his head now, sadness and disbelief washing over him in droves. “Sometimes you’re such a stranger, Thorin,” he said now. “You’re nothing like the man I knew, and I used to think that was because time had changed you, but I don’t think that anymore. It’s the stone. The fact that you can’t see that makes my doubts and the doubts of the others certain.”

“I am no more a stranger to you than you are to me.” Thorin argued now. “I have changed none, and that stone has no sway on me.”

“Then prove it,” Bilbo demanded. “Prove to me you’re not in the grips of it. You said once that I could have anything I wish for; I need only ask for it. Well, I’m asking for _this_ Thorin. This would make me happier than anything else.”

Thorin seemed to be hesitating, wavering, so Bilbo continued on.

“The last thing your people need is a war,” he said now, almost desperately begging. “The last thing they need is for their King to act foolishly. They’ve only just gotten their home back. A place they can belong. That’s what you wanted. That’s why you came here- not for the Arkenstone, not to start a war with the Elves of Mirkwood, but to give your people a _home_. And you’ve accomplished that. You’ve got a home now for you, and your family. Don’t screw it up now that you’ve got it.”

For a long time there was silence, and Bilbo wondered if it was the quiet before the storm, if Thorin was going to explode in a fit of rage and throw him out of Erebor, or behead him on the spot.

But Thorin’s shoulders simply sagged.

“Yes,” he agreed, the word rolling out on a sigh, a thick fog seeming to lift from his eyes. Bilbo felt himself relax a little, but he still kept cautious. “Yes, you’re right.” Thorin shook his head, as if trying to rid himself further of the fogginess that clouded his mind.

“Good. It took you long enough, you thick dwarf.”

Thorin’s lips twisted upwards slightly at Bilbo’s words, but they quickly downturned again, and his face moulded into a deep frown.

“You wish for me to make peace with Thranduil?” The idea seemed so foreign to him.

“I do,” Bilbo said in reply. “And if you talk to your Company you’ll find that they think that, too. He would make a good ally, even if you dislike one another.”

Thorin seemed displeased with the idea, but he sighed begrudgingly. “It would be useful for trade,” he muttered now. “Even if he is a tree shagging, son of a-”

“Just talk to them, Thorin.” Bilbo cut him off now. “The Company, your Advisors. That’s all I ask. Make sure you know your own mind. And if, then, you still feel as if you need to go to war, and you’ve convinced the others, do so, by all means. You _are_ King.”

“Fili and Kili will need to have some sort of punishment for their actions. They cannot be allowed to go behind my back and-”

“Then force them to serve for the rest of the year with Dwalin’s men.” Bilbo cut in smoothly now. “A few Orc patrols ought to teach them their lesson.”

Thorin smiled fully now. “You would make a good ruler, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Well, maybe I’ll overthrow you. Your people wouldn’t mind in the slightest, I imagine.” Thorin laughed at him, the sound booming through the hall. Bilbo was still a little shocked he hadn’t been struck by Thorin in his anger.

“Do you not feel better now? As if some great weight has lifted from your shoulders?”

Thorin just frowned. “I would notice if I was being controlled-”

“You did not notice, but everyone else did, Thorin. And it’s clear you could still be swayed by it. Just speak to the others, listen to what they have to say and don’t punish them for telling you the truth.  It is not traitorous if you ask for honesty and get it in return.”

“I would never-”

“I know you feel that you would never do such a thing, but you are the man who was just about to sentence his sister-sons to death before I assaulted you.” Thorin grimaced.

“I do not enjoy being treated as a child.”

“I do not treat you as a child, Thorin. I treat you as an adult. A dangerous one. I would never strike a child.”

Thorin turned now, gazing at the Arkenstone which sat in its usual place above his throne.

“If it means nothing to you, if it has no sway on you, then you will have no problem proving it to the people who doubt you.” Bilbo watched as Thorin moved to it, reaching up and taking it from its place.

“What would you have me do with it?” he turned to Bilbo with a frown. “It belongs here. Above the throne. That is it’s place, where it belongs.”

“It belongs where you found it- buried beneath stone deep in the mines. It’s the mountains life-breath, it’s heart. If belongs deep where hands cannot touch it nor eyes gaze upon it.” Bilbo stepped closer, putting a gentle hand on Thorin’s arm. “Put it away, Thorin. Deep down in the mountain. Somewhere no one will reach it ever again.”

“For such a small thing it had such a draw: such a chokehold.” Thorin clutched the stone in his hand. “It has poisoned a great many people, people blinded by their own pride who thought they were stronger than all that.” Thorin sounded bitter, like he felt he was his father and his grandfather, all over again.

“Then don’t let it trick anyone else.” For some reason the blue glow on the rock seemed to dim slightly. “I think it wants to go home.” Bilbo said now. “Let it go home.”

For an infinitesimal moment he saw the glaze flicker in Thorin’s eyes, but it was quickly stomped out and Thorin closed his hand, determination now set in the grim line of his mouth. “I’ll put it in the deepest crevasse in the deepest mine we have.”

Bilbo smiled, reaching up and touching his face. “You’re doing the right thing.” He told Thorin now, fingertips gently rubbing at the lines around his eyes. “Because I can’t pull you back every time it drags you in, Thorin. One day I’m not going to be able to just slap it out of you. One day I might be back in The Shire, miles away, unable to help.”

Thorin looked unimpressed. “You wish to return to The Shire?”

Bilbo gave a shrug. “I hadn’t really thought about it much. Erebor is quite distracting.”

“Well, then I hope it distracts you for a very long time.”

Bilbo felt his mouth stretch into a wide grin. “I think it may.” He agreed now.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems a little anticlimactic, I wanted it to be sort of happy. If you're looking for angst, it ain't gonna be here.


	12. Dwarves Only Love Once

“But I don’t like mines.” Bilbo all but whined now, frowning at Thorin from across the room. “So deep and damp and dark and endless, I don’t like that. I don’t like heights either. Hobbits aren’t fond of those sorts of things.”

“I would appreciate you come with me.” Thorin replied simply, putting on his furs. “I’d rather you than Dwalin or Balin. It’s less... embarrassing.” The admission would have made Bilbo chuckle, if not for the solemnity laced in Thorin’s features.

“Oh, fine, if you’re going to be silly.” He huffed, getting up from his chair by the fire. “But I swear if you laugh at me like you did last time-”

Thorin put his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

Bilbo harrumphed, getting his coat.

They walked alone for the most part, only accepting the company of guards when they reached the deeper part of the mines. Bilbo kept his eyes forward, his mind snarling at himself to not look down. His stomach flipped the few times he slipped up, accidentally gazing down into the black abyss. Thorin kept hold of his elbow most of the time, offering support and comfort. It helped a little, he had to admit.

After what seemed like a very long time of travelling downwards, deep into the heart of the mountain, the air started to thin and the walls started to close in. The tunnels all trailed off, leading to one small burrow.

“This is it?” Bilbo asked now, looking about them as they stopped, though all he could really see was black. Thorin moved the torch towards the wall.

“It is. The deepest, farthest mine we have.” He pulled bundle of cloth out of his pocket and weighed it in his hand. “It feels so silly, my attachment to it.” He murmured now.

“It draws to you because it belonged to your grandfather, because it was such a big part of his life. But you don’t have to follow in those footsteps. You make your own path.”

Thorin exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “I am not like him.” He said the words like they were a mantra, a set of words he lived by, and Bilbo wondered how long he’d been pained over such a thing. Bilbo had never had to break away from his parent’s legacy. He’d been in his own person. But Thorin had such a hard time doing so, simply because of who he was. He watched as Thorin set the Arkenstone down on the ground and turned to him.

“You ready to go?” Bilbo asked him. Thorin gave a short nod.

“Yes,” he said on a sigh. “Let’s go back.”

Bilbo grabbed hold of his hand and they walked back out towards the guards. “Fill the tunnel.” Thorin instructed as they walked passed. The guards nodded, setting about getting to work.

“Do you feel okay?” Bilbo wondered as they walked back upwards where light was flickering.

“I think so.” Thorin frowned. “I don’t really know, to be honest...”

“You’re doing the right thing.” Bilbo assured him gently, rubbing his hand. “Everyone thinks so.” Thorin relaxed a little.

“I know,” he replied. “I just need to keep it out of my mind.”

“Well, I’m sure we can all work to distract you for a very long time.” Bilbo nudged at him playfully. Thorin smiled.

“Fili and Kili have been driving me crazy enough with all their complaining.”

“Their best skill.” Bilbo agreed with a grin. “But I think they’re secretly enjoying being hero-guards, sort of looked on in awe by the people.”

“I can see that.”

They finally reached the end of the mines now, and Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief when they were surrounded by light and noise. He felt like he could breathe now that the feeling of walls closing in around him was gone.

Thorin seemed to relax more as distance was put between him and the now buried Arkenstone, and with each step they took, he smiled a bit more. When Balin caught sight of them his face lit up in relief.

“Come on, our King.” Dwalin slapped a hand on Thorin’s back. “Let’s go have a drink.”

Bilbo let Dwalin steer them in the direction of the food halls.

A drink seemed rather fitting. There was certainly a lot of reason to celebrate.

 

* * *

 

He’d heard the whispers when he went down to the markets in Dale later that afternoon. Something about the dignitaries from the Iron Hills sending an offer of marriage to the King. And just like that, Bilbo’s perfect morning had been crumbled. He left pretty quickly after that, spending the rest of the day inside his room, having Balin bring him some food to eat inside with the excuse that he didn’t feel all that well. Thorin spent the night with him, though if he saw through Bilbo’s lies he didn’t mention it.

They sat together in front of the fire, not speaking, Thorin quietly looking through some probably very important papers, Bilbo pretending to read a book he had no interest in tonight. He sighed. He should probably bring it up. Best to get it over with now. After all, it would take some time to get back to The Shire and he wanted to do so before winter set in...

“Thorin,” Bilbo said now, lowering his book but keeping his eyes on his feet.

“Yes?”

“I was just... looking for some...” he paused, searching for the correct word, “ _clarification_.” Yes. That seemed like the right word to use.

In his peripherals he saw Thorin set his papers down in his lap and glance up at him. “What about?”

“Well... I’m not really sure...” he frowned now. “I don’t know how long you’d like me to stay.” Bilbo kept his eyes averted, and Thorin didn’t reply straight away.

“What did you mean?” he asked eventually, and Bilbo glanced up to see his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t quite understand what... _this_ is.” He sighed, knowing that wasn’t right, and tried again. “I _mean_ , I overheard some conversations between the vendors while I was out about you being asked to marry one of the Dwarven women from the Iron Hills.”

Thorin gave a shrug. “Frig, yes. I’ve known her since I was young. But I declined,” he gave a pause, looking at Bilbo like that should have been clear to him, “obviously.”

Bilbo cocked his head. “But why?”

Thorin looked confused. “You think I should have accepted?”

“Well, I’m led to believe a marriage like that would be good for relations between the two mountains.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “I have no need for a wife.” He said now.

“No?” Bilbo’s voice was very small, and Thorin gave him an amused gaze.

“If I marry,” he began, “it would not be for some absurd need to secure better relations. Dwarves love only once, and when they do it’s for forever.”

Bilbo pursed his lips, repressing a smile. “Really?” he asked now.

“Really,” Thorin promised. Bilbo grinned openly now, unable to hide it any longer, and Thorin just laughed at him.

 

 

 


	13. Catch Me If You Can

Thorin heaved a sigh, rolling his shoulders, and threw his quill down in irritation. This was too much, it really was. Usually he could deal with the amount of work that came along with being a King, but some days it just got to him. Today was one of those days.

He stretched out in his chair, leaning his head back, and looked up at the high ceiling, lost in thought.

If he were paying attention, he might have noticed the door opening ever-so-slightly, or even the figure that crept towards him before quickly ducking under the table. But no, he didn’t notice anything was amiss until he felt his breeches being untied.

He jumped in shock, opening his mouth to snap some sort of scolding, but a warm, pliant pair of lips slipped over his girth, making his mouth fall open wordlessly. He let out a choking noise, hands clutching at the arms of his chair, quite unable to do anything else as he was swallowed down and worked by a more than capable mouth.

His head hit the back of the chair with a _thump_ , but he barely registered the pain, and he began babbling incoherently in Khuzdul, unable to keep his mouth shut all of a sudden. His hands slid down the chair and under the table so he could entwine his fingers through silky curls.

“ _Mahal_ ,” he yanked painfully at the hair now. “What are you-” he cut off with a groan when he felt Bilbo’s tongue flick over his head. He would have said something more had the door not swung open and Dwalin’s harsh voice grated through the air. He jumped, straightening in his chair.

“What?” he demanded. “What is it?”

“Sorry,” Dwalin didn’t look sorry at all, in fact, he looked irritated. “But the dignitaries have arrived.” Thorin cleared his throat, trying to compose himself.  Though how could he pretend Bilbo wasn’t under the table when- _Mahal,_ when his head was bobbing again.

“Send them to the Throne Room,” he managed to choke, clutching at the side of the table so tightly his knuckles were going white. “I’ll be out soon.”

Dwalin frowned, looking him over. “Are you alright?” he wondered now. “You look a bit flushed.”

“Fine,” he insisted, biting the inside of his cheek as hard as he could to stop himself from moaning again. “I’m fine. I’ll be out soon.” He managed to keep himself in check until Dwalin had shut the door and as soon as he was sure Dwalin would before enough down the hall to not hear him, he openly moaned, slamming his palms down on the table. He came now, jerking in his chair, gasping for breath. Bilbo swallowed him down before pulling off him and giggling into his thigh.

“You,” Thorin managed, reaching down to pull him out from under the table and onto his lap. “That was _not_ funny.” He scolded when he came face-to-face with a flushed, smiling Hobbit.

“I think it was very funny.” Bilbo replied with a grin, and Thorin found himself delighting in his rosy face.

“You’re lucky I’m a kind King or else I’d punish you.” He nuzzled at Bilbo’s face before pressing their lips together. He pulled away far too soon. “Now, unfortunately, I can’t stay and repay the favour. I have to go and meet some dignitaries.”

“I heard,” Bilbo stretched a little before sliding off his lap. “I’ll let you get back to work, My King.” He gave a flourished bow and moving towards the door.

“Smug Hobbit,” he muttered. “You’ll regret that tonight.”

“I’m sure I will,” Bilbo called over his shoulder as he reached the door. “That is, of course, if you can catch me.”

Thorin didn’t think he’d ever be able to catch Bilbo. Not that he really minded all that much.

 

 

 


	14. Decisions

“I do not like this diplomacy thing.” Thorin muttered to Bilbo as they watched the Elves leave, having gotten what they wanted. “It feels wrong.”

“If it keeps us safe there’s nothing wrong about it.” Bilbo countered, putting a hand against Thorin’s shoulder and leading him back into the mountain. “After all, being a King means dealing with people you don’t like for the good of your Kingdom.”

“I know that,” Thorin was frowning. “That doesn’t mean I can’t complain.”

Bilbo grinned. “Of course not. You’d complain ‘til your face is blue if you were allowed to.”

Thorin just rolled his eyes.

They were able to relax for the rest of the morning before Thorin was dragged away again, his duties calling, and Bilbo was left alone in the library, pondering his home in The Shire.

He’d gone over and over the subject in his head for the past few days, trying to come to some sort of conclusion, and the only thing he could think of was that he felt more at home here than he ever did in The Shire. And he missed his friends, and his warm little Hobbit Hole, but he didn’t long for them so much to override the longing he felt here in Erebor.

Thorin had said he was welcome here as long as he wanted, and Bilbo knew that it may be quite a long while before he even considered going home again. Because he’d have to at some point- just to visit, of course.

This was home now.

He smiled at that, getting to his feet and going for a walk.

Erebor was a nice city, even if it was buried deep within a mountain and had little sunlight. Even if the Dwarves didn’t appreciate gardening or flowers. Even if he got a curious look directed at his bare feet every now and again. In fact, he was getting a few from the guards now. But they nodded and smiled politely, and seemed genuinely pleased to see him, so he felt no ill towards them. He smiled in reply, going about his own business, letting them get back to theirs. He felt welcome here, part of a community, even if he wasn’t the same species.

He looked up at the high ceilings and realised that he couldn’t even think about leaving, let alone actually _doing_ it. He liked Erebor, and he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here. Permanently.

The conclusion relaxed him a little. Finally, he’d made a decision. He’d been so at odds with himself, thinking that he should be in The Shire, with his own people: that he didn’t belong here.

He reached the food hall now, pushing his way through the doors and dodging Dwarves who were a great deal taller than he was.

Fili and Kili caught sight of him across the room and called out now. Bilbo grinned and made his way over to them.

How could he think he didn’t belong here?

 

* * *

 

 “So you’re sure about this?” Thorin asked him now.

“Of course I am. I trust Drogo and Primula, and they have a little one on the way, so they need the place.” Bilbo finished signing the now-finished letter, looking down at his handwriting with a smile. “I think it’ll make them very happy. And I have no need to go back now.” He glanced at Thorin over his shoulder. “Do I?”

“Of course not.” Thorin replied with a frown. “You belong here, not there.”

Bilbo smiled. “I certainly do.” He agreed now. “There,” he folded the letter and let Thorin seal it.

“I will send my best envoy to deliver it.” Thorin promised, and Bilbo knew he’d make good on that promise. He always did.

“Well,” Bilbo stretched out in his chair. “That’s one problem dealt with.”

“Now we just have to deal with the rest.” Thorin finished with a sly grin.

Bilbo heaved a sigh. “Such hard work ruling a Kingdom.”

Thorin laughed. “It is,” he agreed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it! I know this finished a little sooner than I intended- but I just got a little bored with it, and I've got like seven other stories I'm working on. I'll probably do another spin-off sometime, if I feel up to it. Hope you enjoyed it!


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